Page 168 of Crowned In Venom

I barely register the silence that follows.

The blood cooling on my skin.

The sweat plastering my hair to my face.

The way my body feels too light. Too hollow.

I try to move.

I can’t.

A heavy warmth envelops me.

Strong arms. A trembling touch.

Varkos.

His voice is wrecked, hoarse, breaking.

"Anya, love—please?—"

I barely hear him.

I barely feel anything at all.

But I see him.

His face hovering over mine.

Tears in his eyes.

A relief so raw, so profound, it nearly crushes me.

My lips barely move, but I force a smile.

Then—

The darkness swallows me whole.

50

VARKOS

The weight of her in my arms feels wrong. Too light. Too cold.

I press my forehead against hers, my breath ragged, uneven.

"Anya."

No response.

Her body is slack, her skin ashen, streaked with the remnants of her own blood. The stone altar beneath her is still slick with it, dark rivulets painting unholy patterns along the grooves of the ritual carvings.

She should be screaming. She should be glaring at me, snapping some defiant remark, fighting.

But she is still.

I can’t breathe.

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